You're a Mean One, Mr Grinch
by barefoot11
Summary: When Arthur is stubborn and decides to stay at home during a very commercial Christmas, Alfred takes it upon himself to explain who exactly that reminds him of. song!fic, Human names used, America/England if you squint.


Alfred had never been so flustered before. It was such an odd feeling, but he was so determined. The results! He could already taste it on his tongue! Even though his fatigue begged him to give up, and his body pleaded for rest, he kept at it. Alfred read the words over and over, the tune playing itself in his mind (he had heard it so many times, after all) – he couldn't mess this up for the life of him! His pride wouldn't allow it!

* * *

It had become commercial, Arthur reflected, Christmas had. The feeling was there, alright, but it was still so commercial. He blamed this mostly on his ex-colony, but what didn't he blame on him, or that frog? He scrunched his nose and sipped at his tea again. The bright lights across the street were so loud that they reflected off the tip of the china in his hands.

Oh, it all just put him in a bad mood.

He stubbornly told himself that he would remain inside this Christmas – not bothering himself with any parties, or get-togethers, he'd probably just end up drunk. It all seemed like a rather realistic, probable plan; that is, until he heard a rather impatient rapping at his door.

Arthur placed a scowl on his lips as he stood, walked over, and answered it.

"Arthur!" crooned the last person he wanted to see.

"Go away, Alfred."

Alfred welcomed himself inside. "Huh? Where are all of your decorations? It's Christmas!" He looked accusingly at Arthur.

Arthur closed the door behind him and sighed.

The American continued, with something like hope in his eyes, "What, you weren't going to sit around and be a Scrooge all day, huh?"

That was exactly what he planned to do, but he would say that. "No. I just don't feel the need to be suffocated with so much company."

Alfred just shrugged, an excited smirk forming on his lips. He could barely ease the anxious skip in his heart.

Instantly, a feeling of impending doom rest on the Englishman's shoulders at that look. "Alfred, what are you—"

"_You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch,"_ Alfred began, turning to face Arthur with a wide grin. "_You really are a heel!_" He walked toward him and prodded his shoulder. "_You're as cuddly as a cactus; you're as charming as an eel!_"

Arthur recognized this. He had heard it faintly before. He fumed, his cheeks dusting over. "Oh, what are you –"

"_Mr. Grinch_," But Alfred interrupted him, like the Englishman expected. "_You're a bad banana with a greasy, black, peal!_" He pretended to stick his nose up with disgust, and inside, joy was filling him to the brim. This was more exciting then he thought! If only he could get Arthur to respond…

"_You're a monster, Mr. Grinch!_" Alfred stalked around to the back of the momentarily dazed blonde. "_Your heart's an empty hole, your brain is filled with spiders, you've got garlic in your soul…_" He appeared around the other side of Arthur, poking the other shoulder, trying to get anything from him. "_…Mr. Grinch!_" His voice wasn't as deep or raspy as the original artist's, he knew that. But he thought he sounded pretty awesome.

"Alright, Alfred, enough with this foolishness!" Arthur said loudly, glaring at him. "I don't have time for your –"

_Yes_, Alfred thought. "_I wouldn't touch you with a… thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole!_" He suddenly jumped away from him, still with a smile.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm sure. Now please, shut it!" He tried to grab the man's shirt, to maybe knock some sense into him, but Alfred took on his heels and ran into the living room. The Englishman growled, and hurried after him. "Alfred!"

"_You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch_," chimed Alfred, now standing on the couch, which managed to totally infuriate Arthur. "_You have termites in your smile._" The American grinned, showing him a smile that was free of termites and things of the like. "_You have all the tender sweetness…_" He jumped down, and leaned forward so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. "_…of a seasick crocodile!_" He couldn't hold back a laugh.

Arthur was getting angered quickly. It was like a show Alfred was putting on for him, and he wasn't impressed. It was insulting and annoying, so he wasn't going to put up for it for much longer. He, once again, made a move to get a hold of his ex-colony, but the swift American purposely got out of the way in the nick of time.

"_Given the chance between the two of you…_" He feigned thinking. "_I'd take the seasick crocodile!_" He was having a grand old time, just watching Arthur's reactions.

Arthur was done trying to talk to the bespectacled boy. Maybe physical persuasion was what it would take. He lurched forward, almost getting a hold on him.

Alfred laughed out loud, and then turned toward the stairs. He ran up them, singing all the while. "_You're a foul one, Mr. Grinch. You're a nasty, wasty, skunk!_" He stuck out his tongue behind his shoulder, eliciting a growl from the gentleman chasing him.

The American turned into a random room. It was either a guest bedroom, or Arthur's own, for Alfred would believe the Englishman's quarters to be completely spotless. As Arthur came in the room, Alfred turned and continued, "_Your heart is filled with unwashed socks; your soul is full of gunk!_" He smirked, and sat at the edge of the bed. "_Mr. Grinch._" He crossed his arms, waiting.

Arthur's face was slightly flushed with anger. "Alfred, I'm not in the mood for your games."

He put a finger in the air. "_The three words that best describe you are as followed, and I quote, 'Stink. Stank. Stunk.'_" Alfred grinned.

Arthur lunged for him again, but Alfred quickly got up, leaving the Englishman face down in the sheets. As he rose, he growled, to seeing his former colony chuckling again. "I don't see what is so amusing!"

The American was oh too tempted to respond to that, but he was on a roll! "_You're a rotter, Mr. Grinch. You're the King of Sinful Sots!_" He saw anger flash like lightening in his favorite green eyes, and he realized he wasn't safe where he was. So he quickly ran forward, out of the open door, back into a long corridor. He shouted, "_You're heart's a dead tomato splot, with moldy purple spots, Mr. Grinch!_"

Arthur emerged again, firmly bent on killing the obnoxious man in his hallway one way or another. Oh, he would find a way!

The American was more than amused. He had thought it would end up with Arthur just shouting at him the whole time, but a chase had actually given way! The old man had more spunk in him than Alfred gave him credit for.

He reached the hardest part of the song, here. He didn't understand what most of the words meant, and they reminded him of how Arthur spoke. But, he hadn't practiced for so long to mess up now! And the Englishman was standing there a few feet before him, his fists clenched at his side, as if he was daring Alfred to continue.

And, being the awesome one he was, Alfred went on. After all, he wouldn't want to disappoint his audience!

"_Your soul is an appalling dump heap overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable rubbish imaginable, mangled up in tangled-up knots!_" Ha. He mentally awarded himself with a high-five. And when Arthur began running again, Alfred did too, down the stairs as fast as he could.

Alfred turned as soon as he hit the floor again, to face his irritated friend with a cocky grin. "_You nauseate me, Mr. Grinch…_"

Arthur stopped two stairs before Alfred, just glaring.

"…_with a nauseous super-naus._"

In the blink of an eye, Arthur had skillfully reached around to grip the back of the American's shirt.

Alfred continued, despite this. "_You're a crooked jerky jockey, and you drive a crooked horse, Mr. Grinch!_" Arthur turned him around, and began to lead him toward the door with a scowl still in place. "_You're a three-decker sauerkraut and toadstool sandwich…_"

The Englishman opened the door, letting a cool breeze of winter wind in, and letting his annoying ex-colony out. Arthur released a triumphant smirk.

After the door slammed behind him, Alfred smiled softly and sang quietly to himself, "_…with arsenic sauce._"

* * *

**A/N**: The lyrics used are from: _You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch_ by Thrul Ravencroft. I do not claim ownership.

Whee... Merry early Christmas~!

I've never written America or England before... I didn't give England much dialogue because I know I would really mess it up... he talks so differently! Oi. I didn't think I would ever write them, but... the idea wouldn't work for any other pairing that I know of so perfectly!!!

This turned out better than I thought, though.

Anyway! R&R, if you please. :D


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